


Stunned, Flattered, and A Little Bit Afraid

by WitchyBee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancing, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Harding is a Good Girlfriend, Picnics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBee/pseuds/WitchyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a quiet corner of The Herald’s Rest, Lace Harding waited nervously for her date to arrive. It had started as innocent flirtation—a bit of fun to make the cold and dangerous places in which they both often found themselves less frightening. Harding assumed it wouldn’t go beyond that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Date

In a quiet corner of The Herald’s Rest, Lace Harding waited nervously for her date to arrive. It had started as innocent flirtation—a bit of fun to make the cold and dangerous places in which they both often found themselves less frightening. Harding assumed it wouldn’t go beyond that. But she dared to hope, and then…

"I’d like it to continue," the Inquisitor had said, a blush coloring her freckled cheeks. "I mean, i-if you would, that is."

So...where was she?

The tavern door suddenly burst open and the Inquisitor came running in, red hair streaming behind her, free of the bun she usually wore out in the field. Maker, did she actually run everywhere she went?

"Sorry I’m late," Marni Cadash said. She flashed her charming bucktoothed smile before taking her seat, and all was forgiven. "War council stuff. You know how it is. No rest for the wicked and all that rot."

"How did you manage to escape?"

"I just told Josie there was a beautiful woman expecting me."

The Inquisitor went to the bar and ordered drinks—on the house, of course. Harding looked on as Cabot winked at her, an almost playful grin on his face. Then Cadash returned to their table with tankards in hand.

"Here you are, m’lady," she said teasingly.

"Thanks, your Worship."

Cadash’s smile faltered. Oh, sod. Five minutes in and she’d already said the wrong thing. The Inquisitor looked tired, Harding noticed. Bad day, most likely. Of course she didn’t want to be reminded of her titles and responsibilities right now.

"First names, yeah? You can call me Marni, and I’ll try to remember to call you Lace without giggling." A hint of that smile returned. "I like you. And if you like me—"

"I do," Harding insisted. "I, um…I really do."

"But I want you to like the real me. Not the Herald or the Inquisitor.” Marni took a sip of her ale. “I’m a carta thug. My criminal record’s longer than the Chant of Light. I stumbled out the Fade with this weird mark on my hand, and now I’m—I don’t even know—part mage or something? I owe my survival to dumb luck and my friends. I run away from more dragons than I kill. And bears. Lace, I have to tell you all this ‘cause…” She paused, took a breath and sighed, “then you’ll know that I’m not good enough for you.”

"Hey," the scout said gently, reaching across the table to touch her hand, "I think you should give yourself a little credit. I’ve seen the stuff you go up against, and I’m sure that’s just half of it. We all get scared, you know?" She squeezed Marni’s hand reassuringly. "I used to herd sheep for a living. I’d never left the Hinterlands before I signed on. But you’ve brought everybody here together; it’s not just the mark—it’s you.”

Marni considered her words. After a moment, she apologized. “I’m usually a lot more fun.”

"I know. But it’s good to see this side of you, too. The real you." Harding smiled. "I like it."

It was something. A start, perhaps. Maybe something really good. Harding had once idolized the Inquisitor—a female dwarf just like her who, if you believed the rumors, was chosen by Andraste—but tonight she had seen the person Marni truly was.

They talked of more pleasant things after that. Marni laughed a great deal, her burdens eased for a short time by Harding’s company. Night fell around Skyhold. The tavern got busier, and then quieter as its patrons retired for the evening.

"I think this is the longest we’ve ever talked," Harding remarked.

"Yeah. It’s a nice change from the usual Blighted deserts and bogs we meet in." Marni’s elbow was propped up on the table, head resting on her hand. "Y’know, whenever I’m sent to one of those places, I look forward to it ‘cause I know you’ll always be there, waiting for me. But this is definitely better."

Her heart soared. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her. “Aww, you’re such a romantic.”

Marni laughed. “Don’t tell anyone.”

"So long as you keep my name to yourself, my lips are sealed."

"You’ve got a deal there, Lace."

And just like that, she leaned across the table and kissed her briefly, dry lips tasting of ale. There was a question in her eyes when she pulled away. Harding answered it with a kiss of her own, a hand upon Marni’s cheek.

This would be marvelous.


	2. Nameday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to continue this as a series of one-shots because these two are adorable.

Marni Cadash leaned over the war table, squinting at Lake Calenhad intently. ”Well, I don’t see a bunny,” she declared after several minutes of this.

Cullen and Josephine had returned to their duties after the war council dismissed, but the Inquisition’s spymaster lingered expectantly near the doorway, arms crossed.

"Inquisitor?"

"Huh?" The dwarf stood up straight and turned to Leliana. "I mean, something to report?"

"Yes. Your presence is requested in the Hinterlands. Alone. Three days from now."

"Alone? That’s—wait." Marni shot her an incredibly serious look. "Three days from now, you said. You know what day that is, Leliana, I know you do ‘cause you’ve got a file on me longer than the sodding Chant. But you’re the only one who knows. I’ve been so careful! If this is some sort of trap—"

"I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Inquisitor."

Marni glared. “Bloody bards! I can’t tell if you’re lying or not. You’d better not be. All right, fine. I’ll go to the Maker-damned Hinterlands!”

A trap, she could handle. She’d simply break free and leave a trail of bodies in her wake. But Marni suspected that it was, in fact, the thing she dreaded most of all: a surprise party. It wasn’t because she hated the attention or any legitmate reason like that. Marni just didn’t like to make a big deal about her nameday.

Even back in her carta days, Lantos was the only one who knew. Every year he would buy a round of drinks and make a toast. “Lads and lasses, please raise your glasses to my carta sister,” he’d say, smiling like the mischievous bastard he was. “The best salroka an old Duster could ask for, my best friend: Marni Cadash!” Maker, how she missed that son-of-a-nug.

———————————

The Hinterlands were a little quieter now that the rebel mages and templars had focused their efforts on Corypheus instead of killing each other. Granted, the region was still crawling with bears. Marni kept her guard up as she approached the south of the Crossroads where Leliana had instructed her to go. It wasn't long before she saw it.

A white blanket spread out on the grass. A picnic basket. A vase holding those flowers Leliana liked—Andraste’s Grace. A bottle of real dwarven ale, brewed by the Paragons of the surface in some Duster’s basement with a recipe older than the carta itself; the secret was a hint of lyrium. And in the middle of it all sat the woman she loved.

Marni found herself too stunned to be angry.

"Hey, there you are," Harding said cheerfully. "And before you say anything, yes, I know how you feel about your nameday. So think of this more as a...celebration of not being dead."

"Given the number of things that have tried to kill me, it is an achievement," she conceded.

"Some of my men are guarding the perimiter, so we should be reasonably safe here, at least."

While Harding unpacked the picnic basket’s contents, Marni took a seat across from her on the blanket and opened the ale bottle, taking a drink.

"That’s awful," she coughed, smiling, "It’s perfect. You did all this for me, Lace?"

"Of course," the scout replied. "Well, Sister Leliana helped. And the cooks. And Varric. I wanted to give you something nice today for…for everything you do all the other days. Besides, no one should spend their entire nameday working."

Once they had finished eating and half the ale was gone, Marni and Harding lay together on the picnic blanket, gazing up at the sky. The Inquisitor would occasionally point to a cloud and declare that it looked a bit like a griffon.

"I just realized something," she said. "This is where we first met."

"Huh. Isn’t that a remarkable coincidence?" Harding deadpanned.

Marni snuggled closer to her, trying to look pitiable. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner, Lacey. I’m an old dwarf, probably lyrium-addled after years smuggling the stuff, and who knows what the Anchor did to my memory.”

"Aww, you poor thing. I still love you." Harding kissed her forehead.

"Love you, too," she murmured, eyes closed. Soon Marni was fast asleep in her arms, lulled by a good meal, strong drink, and the warm feeling of safety that her lover provided. If her nameday could always be like this, perhaps she wouldn’t dread the next one quite so much.


	3. Dreams

Marni jolted awake, breathing fast. She sat up in bed. The room was still dark, though patches of moonlight poured in from the windows. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to calm down.

"Are you all right?" Harding asked groggily, a warm hand upon Marni’s arm. They hadn’t been sharing a bed for very long. She didn’t know about the occasional nightmares Marni suffered yet.

"Yeah," Marni assured her, drawing a slow and shaky breath. "It’s just...dreams, is all." She had felt the dragon’s fire on her neck, as real as a memory. "Stupid dreams. Bad ones."

Harding rubbed her back soothingly. ”Dreams?” 

"The Anchor," she explained, "It does magical stuff, y’know. Closes rifts. Makes me sort of…magic too, I guess. Makes me have dreams."

"What’s it like?"

"Weird. Good. Terrifying. Sometimes all at once. One time Solas was there." Marni lay down again and curled up against her lover’s warmth, closing her eyes. "I’m less and less like a proper dwarf every sodding day, aren’t I."

"You don’t have to live underground, arguing over rocks and dead people to be a proper dwarf," Harding said. After a brief pause, she continued, "My great grandmother was part of the merchant caste, you know. She got into trouble or something and came up here to raise her son. Grandpa never talked about it much. He was a merchant, too, and every year he went to Orzammar for a couple months to sell his wares. Like a pilgrimage. I suppose my mother wanted a different life."

"So you’re from a family of merchants?"

"Yep. And here I am, spending all my time in the great outdoors. My ancestors must be turning in their graves." Harding smiled slightly. "What about your family?"

"Casteless all the way back, if I had to guess." The truth was Marni had no idea. She’d heard a rumor that the Hero of Ferelden located Cadash thaig, that they might’ve been warrior caste, but there were so many tall tales surrounding the Warden, and Marni didn’t care enough to seek out the truth behind them. "I never knew my parents. Grew up in a Chantry orphanage 'til I was old enough to join a carta clan."

Harding held Marni a little tighter. “That…sounds like a difficult life.”

"The carta? It’s rough, yeah," she agreed mildly. "I wouldn’t wish it on anybody with a good heart, like Dagna. Or you. Some folks think we give all surfacers a bad name—and maybe there’s truth in that—but the carta was my family for a long time."

"And now?" Harding wondered.

"Now I’ve got you, Lacey," Marni said fondly, her eyelids growing heavy. Held securely in her lover’s embrace, she drifted off into a peaceful—and thankfully dreamless—sleep.


	4. Dance Lesson

The masquerade in Halamshiral was fast approaching.

Josephine knew that Marni Cadash had charm and tact in spades when it suited her to employ it, although Leliana had some reservations about the Inquisitor’s willingness to put her grudge against nobles aside and play the Game. They were both agreed upon one thing, however; Marni couldn’t dance.

——————————————-

"You two want me to...take dance lessons," Marni said incredulously, "to impress all those masked Orlesian fops? Seriously?"

"We believe it would be best," Josephine confirmed. "Preventing Empress Celene’s assassination may require that you...act the part, Inquisitor. We feel you should be adequately prepared for any dancing."

"Bards are always out of earshot on the dance floor," Leliana added. "An unspoken rule of The Game. So it can be a useful tool to exchange information."

"Fine. If it stops the assassination, I’ll play along. I;ll even dance."

"Good." Leliana smiled slightly, no doubt imagining the ridiculous shoes she planned on forcing Marni to wear. "I know just the person to teach you."

———————————————-

Later that evening, Marni made her way to Skyhold’s dining hall as Leliana instructed. The tables had all been moved, leaving the space rather bare. In the center of the hall stood none other than Lace Harding. She wore a simple cotton dress and flat dancing shoes. Marni still found it a little odd to see Harding without armor.

Maker, she was beautiful.

"Hello. Ready for your first lesson? Whoever you dance with at the ball will probably be a lot taller, but Sister Leliana wanted me to show you some of the steps, at least, so you’ll know what to expect."

"I didn’t know you liked to dance, Lace."

Harding blushed. “It can’t all be traveling around Thedas and shooting idiots full of arrows, can it?”

"I don’t know. Some days—Wait, is that Maryden?"

"Fear not, Inquisitor!" the bard said dramatically. "My lips are sealed. I am simply here to provide musical accompaniment for you and Messere Harding." 

"...All right." Marni shrugged.

As the bard started to play, Harding bowed slightly and offered a hand to her. “May I have this dance, my lady?” she asked.

She took her hand, of course, and they both swayed along to the music. She spun and turned when instructed to, and Harding corrected her footwork occasionally. After some practice, Marni felt confident enough that she knew the steps for Harding to let her take the lead.

Marni was now preoccupied with not stepping on her partner’s toes. She didn’t want to embarrass herself too much. Right now, anyway. Sod the nobles. She didn’t care a bit what they thought. But here tonight? Well, Marni knew she was a lucky woman indeed.

"Dip me," Harding instructed, breaking her reverie. One hand upon Harding’s waist and the other still clasped in her hand, Marni did as she was told. The music swelled. Marni leaned down a bit more and kissed her.

"Well," Harding said after the lesson was over, "I think you’re ready for the Winter Palace."

"Oh? I think we might have to try that again, Lace. Y’know, just to be really sure.”

"You might not want to kiss your dance partners at the ball, though. They could get the wrong idea."

—————————————————

"Inquisitor, the dressmaker from Val Royeaux has arrived. She needs to take your measurements."

"I will wear any ridiculous outfit you want, Leliana, on one condition," Marni said. 

"Which is?"

"Scout Harding comes with us to Halamshiral."

"Harding? Why?" Leliana asked, clearly feigning ignorance of their relationship.

"Moral support. Oh come on, spymaster, don't pretend like you didn’t already know about us. You probably knew before we did."

"Very well," Leliana agreed. "I’ll have Josie secure another invitation to the ball. Now you should go, Inquisitor, before you are late for that fitting."

\---------------------------------

Sodding Orlesians. Tonight had been exhausting. Scandals, political machinations, scheming Venatori, jilted lovers, a trail of elven blood, dancing--Marni was so sick of nobles she could scream. She ducked out onto the balcony for some fresh air, hoping no one would notice. And screw 'em if they did, she'd saved the empress tonight, after all. Marni deserved a second to catch her breath.

"Sister Leliana was impressed," Harding remarked, leaning against the banister. "You showed all those noble pricks that a Duster can play their little Game, too."

"I'm no bard," Marni chuckled. "To be honest, I prefer how the carta does things. You always know where you stand. If you're feuding with another clan, you get a knife in the back, you don't start a civil war and get innocent people killed. Well, usually." She sighed.

"You all right?" Harding asked, worried.

"Yeah, just...been a long night, is all. Can't wait 'til we're back at Skyhold and I can take off these shoes."

"Hmm." After a brief pause she stepped back from the railing, bowed slightly, and held out a hand. "Would you care for one last dance, m'lady Inquisitor Cadash?"

Marni smiled genuinely for the first time that evening. "I'd be honored, Lead Scout Harding."

They danced together under the moonlight in Halamshiral, heedless of onlookers, and all troubles forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

The Inquisitor’s small party set up camp in the snowy hills of Emprise du Lion, hoping the warm fire would return a degree of life to their numb extremities. Even Dorian was too cold to complain, and had miserably retreated to his tent carrying every blanket he could find. Sera shivered as she watched Marni restock potions and arrows. 

"So...you and Scout Harding, eh?" she remarked. Marni didn’t need to see her face to know the elf was smirking deviously. "You two...bein’ all...smooshy and adorable and...together, yeah?"

"Yeeep," the dwarf replied. Then she paused, still holding a flask. "Is that...okay?"

"What, you mean ‘cause we used to fuck?" Sera waved a hand dismissively. "It’s all good, innit? I bet she’s good."

"Oh, she certainly is. Real good."

Sera laughed. ”Grand! Just don’t go all dwarfy on me now, ya hear?”

"I’m...not sure I follow." Marni turned to face her, expression confused.

"Y’know, like...don’t grow a beard and live in a cave or whatever." The very mention of it clearly distressed her. "That’s what happens when elves start screwin’ each other. Well, ‘cept they go live out in the bloody woods, not underground. Get this weird idea in their heads that they've gotta be all proper, right? And you’re my friend, so I don’t wanna lose you to some stupid rocks.”

"Sera, the day me and Harding run off to Orzammar will be the day you join a Dalish clan." Marni smiled reassuringly. "And if that does, in fact, happen—Maker forbid—then please put an arrow between my eyes."

"Good, ‘cause I like you and I don’t ever want you to change."

Marni hummed in agreement, crouching near the fire to warm her hands. (A cave didn’t seem so bad right now, if it was dry and not crawling with giant poisonous spiders.) She liked Sera, too. Very much. They’d had fun—a lot of fun—but in the end it was a brief affair. The relationship had burned brightly, intense and exciting, but it just couldn’t last. Fortunately their friendship had come out of it intact and probably stronger than before.

But Lace, though...that felt different. Good different. She loved Harding.

Blessed Andraste, she was in love!

"Probably should get moving again soon," Marni said. "Lots of red lyrium to destroy."

Sera pouted, but slowly stood up and reached for her bow. “Right, fine. Guess we can’t let Coryphetits just have his fun with this freakin’ place. Not when all those people need help. Who’s gonna wake up Dorian and drag him out here?”

Marni grinned. “One...two...thr—Not it!”

"Not it!" Sera yelled at the same time, giggling. "Blackwall’s still over there."

The Inquisitor shrugged. “Well, he’s it then. Why don’t you go tell him the good news?”

"Hey, Beardy!" Sera called, grinning as she walked toward the trees where Blackwall was chopping more firewood. "You’re it!"


End file.
